19. D Is For…
Chapter Nineteen
D Is For…
DYLAN
One second I was kissing and reassuring my fated mate that things were going to be okay, and the next I was scenting blood in the other room, my defenses up and every one of my senses sharpened.
Someone was inside. And it sounded like they were trying their best at destroying the living room.
Thuds and crashes sounded loud even through the closed door.
“Stay here,” Miles said.
“Absolutely the fuck not.” I jumped off the bed with him, grabbing the shorts I’d taken off and pulling them back on.
We were in this together from here on out.
He may not have felt the fated mate connection in the same way I did, but maybe that wasn’t a prerequisite to bonding your souls together? Everyone was different, after all.
Regardless, those were questions for tomorrow Dyl. Present Dyl currently had a situation to handle with Miles, and from the rapidly increasing coppery scent of blood, it was going to be very messy and potentially dangerous.
Miles went out of the room first, running down the hall.
He had his hands balled into fists. I knew he was ready to fight, same as me.
I considered shifting into a wolf to help out with that.
Sharp canines and claws could fend off an intruder much better than fists could.
But what if this was a home intruder who had nothing to do with Miles’ stalker?
One who had no idea shifters existed? Miles having a secret pet wolf in the house could raise questions if the cops got involved.
The moment called for a split-second decision. I stayed in my human form, quieting the wolf inside me that was becoming thirsty for the blood being spilled. Not now.
We ran into the living room and stopped at the threshold, a bloody crime scene unfolding right in front of us.
Streaks of bright red crimson smeared the walls, covering the beautiful wallpaper I’d commented on only hours earlier.
A vase had fallen and shattered all over the floor.
Blood dripped across the carpet and painted it red in thick splotches.
“What the fuck happened?” I asked, looking around but seeing no one inside.
There wasn’t even a sign anyone had broken in.
All the windows were intact, door was closed and locked.
“I don’t know…” Miles said. He sounded as shaken as I felt. We cautiously moved into the living room, peering all around us. Searching for any sign of what could have caused this explosion of blood.
A flapping sound came from my left. I turned to see a red cardinal dive-bombing me. I ducked just in time to avoid it slamming into the side of my head. It hit the wall instead. A sickening crunch sounded through the room as it broke its own neck and fell motionless to the floor.
“Holy shit,” I said.
Miles moved closer to the dead bird. He poked at it with a toe. It didn’t move. That’s when I realized it wasn’t a cardinal at all. There were white tail feathers that hadn’t been coated in blood. This was another species.
“It’s a dove,” Miles said, answering my unspoken question.
“How did it get in? Do you have a fireplace or a window that’s open?”
“I don’t know…” Miles crouched so that he balanced on the balls of his feet. “There’s a note attached to its leg.”
“Hold on, don’t—”
Too late, Miles had already untied the small folded up piece of paper, just as red as the rest of the dead dove.
I looked around the living room, wary of any danger that could possibly sneak up on us.
I wasn’t an overly aggressive person—usually channeling any anger I had into hockey—but I felt myself ready to fight until my last breath to protect Miles.
This had to end. He didn’t even need to read the note before I knew what this was linked to.
His stalker was getting more and more desperate. More cunning.
This was a sign that this sick game was no longer confined to twisted text messages and distant threats. This was as bold as it could get.
Miles stood up. His hands were steady as he rolled the tiny note open. “What’s it say?”
He read it to himself first. I thought I heard something from behind the couch. I swiveled around, ready to fight, but it must have been my imagination. There was nothing there. Only a dreadful and empty silence now, made more ominous by the streaks of blood all across the room.
“What is it?” I repeated myself. Every second that passed added a boulder to my growing mountain of anxiety.
“I don’t think—”
“Just read it.” The anxiousness made me snappy. I understood he was trying to protect me but I couldn’t be kept out of this, no matter how hard he tried.
“It says ‘D is for dove, D is for death, D is for… D is for Dylan. There won’t be any peace or love until the dove is dead.’”
My stomach dropped to the ground. “I’m assuming they aren’t talking about that particular dove being dead.”
“No,” Miles said, shaking his head. “No, they aren’t.
” For the first time since this ordeal started, I noticed a tremor in his hands.
Anger twisted his expression—a deep fury that any other wolf could pick up on.
Body language spoke louder than words to us wolves, and the way his nose twitched upward and his lips followed suit made me know he wanted to tear this person’s throat out.
“This is the first direct threat against you. It makes my blood boil to see how bold this lunatic has become.”
“Does the timing of this have something to do with who they are? Do you think they know what happened between us tonight somehow? Or that we went to Hunter for help?”
“There’s no way. No one else has been in here except you and Emmy.”
“Then how did that dove get in here?”
Miles looked down at the dead bird. He shook his head. His shoulders slumped. The bloody note held carefully at the edge of his fingertips, as though he’d contract an illness simply from holding it. “I… I don’t know.”
“Do you have a doorbell camera?”
“Yeah, and it didn’t go off. I would have gotten an alert on my phone if it picked up movement.”
“Any cameras anywhere else?”
He pointed behind him, down another hall. “The yard, but that also didn’t go off.”
“Let me see.” I held my hand out for his phone. He supplied it, unlocking it as he handed it over. The security camera app was on his home screen. I tapped it and scrubbed through the last thirty minutes of both angles.
Nothing.
I looked back down at the dove. It appeared so peaceful in its death, even covered in blood.
I crouched down. Hunting for some kind of clue.
Anything. That’s when I spotted a metallic glint in the bird’s chest. I leaned a little closer.
It was a bullet. But it was the tip of the bullet, and there had been no entry wound on the other side.
“Check this out,” I said. “Someone put that bullet in its chest. They didn’t shoot it.”
Miles crouched next to me. He made a sound. Moved to touch it. The second his fingers grazed the bullet, I heard a loud hiss from the touch and a surprised curse from my side.
“It’s silver,” Miles said even though I already knew.
That drove the threat home even further. It was a clear message. A single silver bullet to the heart or head would instantly kill me. No regenerating from that. Curtains down. Lights out.
My chest tightened, my lungs constricting.
I tried taking in a deep breath but the oxygen wouldn’t flow.
I couldn’t breathe. I sucked in short, raggedy puffs of air, trying to stave off the panic attack.
But my brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
Alarm bells rang louder than before. The edges of my vision began to blur and darken.
A hand between my shoulders brought a semblance of calm, although my anxiety continued to drive the train. He moved to gently massage the back of my neck. It was the spot that could both turn me on and calm me down.
Tonight, it was very effective at doing the latter.
The black borders started to fade and my breathing began to regulate. This wasn’t ideal, and I wasn’t happy about being a target for this person who clearly had some kind of magic and vendetta against me, but at least in this moment, I was safe.
Miles rubbed the back of my head. The anger that had flared in his gaze was replaced with concern. “Go and get in the shower. I’m going to clean up what I can and then get in with you.”
I shook my head. Already, I could tell I didn’t want to be apart from Miles. Too much had happened today. I couldn’t let my thoughts keep swirling, and being around Miles helped with that.
“Where are your towels and bleach?” I asked. The panic had subsided. I didn’t want to give it the mental space to return. “I’m down to help. It’ll keep my mind busy.”
“With the wrong things. Go.” His tone deepened. I knew he was trying to protect me but I wasn’t going to back down on this. I didn’t mind bumping heads with him.
“Towels and bleach. And maybe some Febreze and a candle. And a bottle of vodka.”
He stood silent for a moment before his lip twitched into a smile. “Towels and bleach are in the laundry room right over there, same as the Febreze and candles. No vodka, but I do have tequila.”
“Even better. Tequila first, cleaning after, then shower and sleep. Please.”
“Yes. Please.”
We threw back our double shots of tequila before I helped gather up the cleaning supplies.
Miles delicately put the dove in a ziplock bag and placed it inside his freezer.
Hunter would likely want to examine it. Next, we preserved the note as well in another ziplock, setting it inside the bottom drawer of the dresser in his bedroom.
When that was done, we got to work cleaning up the blood, scrubbing it off the floor, rug, and walls, taking extra care with the wallpaper.
Hydrogen peroxide worked well to remove it without damaging the wallpaper, which was good because I didn’t want any remnants of this night on his walls.
It took us over an hour to remove the bloody scent.
By then, exhaustion was nut-checking us both.
Yawns bounced between us as we dumped the bloody towels into the trash and took them outside.
I stayed a moment longer with Miles at my side, both of us checking for any signs of an intruder.
It only smelled like the pizza we had delivered a little bit ago, the box still sitting at the front door.
Neither of us were hungry, so we brought the pizza in and popped it in the fridge.
I then followed a quiet and tired Miles to the bathroom.
We undressed and got into the hot shower together.
It was a large and modern shower with a rainfall showerhead.
I stood under the water and let the stress of the day wash down the drain, watching the red-tinged water swirl.
Anxiety began to crawl its way back up my spine, threatening to clamp its jaws around my lungs.
I took a deep breath and focused on Miles as he soaped himself up.
He must have seen something on my face because he stopped and brought the soapy loofah to my chest. He scrubbed in soft circles, moving downward.
He cleaned my arms, my hands. He scrubbed the front of my legs.
Washed off a dried spot of blood, water splashing off his body.
It was intimate and gentle. It, once again, made me feel safer than I’d ever felt. The threat meant nothing to me in this moment as Miles cleaned me off.
I turned around for him. He was just as gentle with my back. Scrubbing in the same motion. The soap smelled like the beach, coconut and ocean waves. Clean. Fresh.
Safe.
When he finished washing me, I took the loofah from him, added some more soap, and returned the favor.
Neither of us spoke. Too much had happened, and not a single word was needed.
We both understood how deep the exhaustion ran inside of us.
I was also more than happy to stand with nothing but the sound of water splashing against us and the tiles beneath my feet. It was relaxing. It was comforting.
I continued to wash him, taking my time.
Holding him at certain points. Although it wasn’t overly sexual, we still both were clearly excited, neither of us trying to hide it.
I held him with my stiff cock pressed up against his ass, with my chin on his shoulder.
Neither of us initiated anything further than that.
We simply enjoyed this type of touch. This sense of closeness and intimacy. I didn’t need more. I knew I’d get more and I would gladly give him more in return—but for now, this was all I needed.
Miles was all I needed.
We stayed in the shower for what felt like close to an hour. The security alarm had been set and Miles had his phone propped up and in view through the glass shower door. We’d know if someone came back to survey the aftermath of their chaos.
No one did. I sank back into the sanctuary that Miles and his home had provided for me tonight.
I didn’t think this kind of feeling was possible.
I’d felt it before, when I was a kid, when my home hadn’t been split in half and my family torn along with it.
Since then, I had lost any kind of semblance of “sanctuary” in my life.
With hockey, I was often moving or traveling from hotel room to hotel room.
And even through all those samplings of different spaces, I never felt as comfortable as I did with Miles.
Was it his home specifically, or would I feel that way anywhere I went with Miles?
The shower trickled to a stop. Miles kissed me, his wet lips pressing against mine. I held him close, our bodies fitting so well together.
“Time for bed?” Miles asked me.
“Way past time. If I don’t get in a bed in about ten seconds I’m going to sleep standing right here.”
“You feel pretty awake to me,” Miles teased, looking down between us.
I wiggled my hips. “This has a mind of its own. And right now I’m going to have to veto it.” I kissed him again. “But my veto power goes away in the mornings.”
“Good. Now let’s dry off and go to bed. I’m down for some cuddles.”
“Yes, that sounds perfect.”
And it was. Our day was full of chaos and trouble and, frankly, bullshit. I forgot all of that once I cuddled up under a thick, warm comforter with a half-naked Miles, his body warm against mine, my arm thrown over him.
Just the two of us, embracing as sleep slowly took us under.
Happy, safe, comfortable.
Perfect.